


Extremes

by justakidfromhellskitchen



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Vacation, palm springs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4588821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justakidfromhellskitchen/pseuds/justakidfromhellskitchen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally written for a Tumblr drabble challenge for “Don’t you dare throw that snowba– Goddammit.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Extremes

“How is it possible to go from the desert to snow in twenty minutes?”  
Hernando spreads his palms. “That, my love, is the beauty of Palm Springs.”  
Silver glints off branches, and their collective breath swirls in the chill of the air. Lito feels as if he has time-traveled. Twenty minutes ago, he was in a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Now he is bundled up in a parka next to Hernando on a wooden bench, shivering off his chiseled ass.  
“I have only one question for you.” Lito weaves the question around his chattering teeth. “Why this place? There are a thousand different other places we could have had a vacation.”  
Hernando adjusts his glasses with a thumb and forefinger. “It is a place of extremes.” Though he wears significantly less clothing than Lito, Hernando seems completely at peace. The handsome bastard. “I love the intensity of it, the sweltering heat at the edge of collapsing cold. Nature bares herself in all her glory without fear of judgement.”  
Digesting Hernando’s passionate soliloquies in large doses is never an easy task. Lito shudders, though it has nothing to do with the temperature of their surroundings. Suddenly, a flicker of motion passes through his periphery, and Lito’s head snaps to the left.  
A perfect snowball is bouncing in Hernando’s gloved hand, and a knowing grin is smeared past Hernando’s mouth and into his perfectly-trimmed beard.  
“Hernando,” Lito says slowly, backing to the edge of his bench. “Don’t you dare throw that snowba–” But too late, a powder of freezing snow explodes Lito’s face. He spits out a mouthful, muttering, “Goddammit.”  
“I only sought to cure you from your seriousness,” Hernando says innocently. His eyes widen with realization just as Lito lunges off the bench and tackles him to the ground.  
Lito’s lips find Hernando’s; a light snow begins to waltz around them, burying them in their incandescent intimacy.


End file.
